


Lucy Gray - Bound to End

by CaptainHulk



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25839415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainHulk/pseuds/CaptainHulk
Summary: Lucy Gray is a complex character. One of my favorites, ever, to be quite honest. This is my take on her story, and it is the Ballad from her perspective (from my perspective). I will be adding chapters about every week or more until the fic is done. PLEASE LEAVE CRITICISMS AND LIKES I PROMISE I WILL NOT BE UPSET. I highly value any comments and urge you to please leave them. Enjoy!
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Lucy Gray stared into the eyes of Reaper as he died. Inside of them, she saw many things. She saw fear. She saw relief. She saw sadness. But she did not see hate. This boy, who was the final boundary between her and freedom from the Capitol… did not hate her. She had killed him. Not out of hate, though. But out of necessity. Right? She had to. He had rabies. He just wasn’t showing the symptoms, that was all. But he was going to die anyway. And he would’ve killed her. He had said so. The boy with the poison leaking out of his mouth slipped into her mind. She fell on the ground and tears burst through her eyes. Mizzen’s eyes stared into her. He didn’t have hate in his either. It seemed to her that she was the only one who had done any real murder. She looked in the stands, searching for the drones she knew would be trained on her. She found one and looked into its lens. Inside of that lens, she knew that Coriolanus would be watching her. She stared at the drone. Wondering if he knew. If he knew just how much she hated him when the games started.


	2. Chapter 2

She remembered seeing him in the train car. He’d come strolling up, his hair fixed, his clothes spotless. And he’d wanted to be friends. He thought that joining her would help. Oh, dear boy. He was the reason she was going to die. And sharing his napkin with her would not change that. But he did want her friendship. And though she hated him… he was useful. And, she would rather not have died. So she performed. It was no different than normal. There was a fool interested in her for their own self-gain. So, she’d do what she normally did. Use them. And use him she did. He became very interested in her. He kept her very well fed, and even seemed to think that they had become close. So, she played to his weakness. This poor fool was obviously desperate for affection. He craved it. He had fallen for a girl from district 12 that he was mentoring to die. And then she kissed him.  
She felt his body relax against hers, his lips soften and come alive, hungry for more. But she pulled away and batted her eyelashes for the last time before entering the Arena. She wanted him to crave her. She wanted him to need her. Because if he needed her, he would fight for her. Earlier, after saving him, she’d known he would respond. She could ask for anything… and what better to ask for than a chance. A chance at survival. And as much as she hated him, she needed him. So, she made him need her. And the Games had begun. When the cannon sounded, she did as she had been told. She ran. And she ran fast, making sure to make eye contact with Jessup before she disappeared into the walls, allowing him to follow her. And then she waited. At first, the Games were fun. It was just her and Jessup talking, reliving their abuses. Their losses. Their hopes they’d long given up on. And the ones they still hoped to see. Then she saw Bobbin’s head.  
She heard scuffling and she and Jessup woke, peeking through the cracks in the walls. She saw figures chasing two people. Away from the Arena. But that wasn’t all. She saw Bobbin’s corpse, his head beaten to a bloody pulp by a wooden board laying next to him. She began to sob. Jessup cradled her, but it was at this moment that the Games were real for her. It was no longer her manipulating Coriolanus. No, it was people her age being murdered by one another. Brutally. Sleep took her soon. But then rabies began to show up. Jessup started to act crazy. Little by little. Until he was drooling and she only knew to ran. When he broke his neck… it broke a piece of her. This was the moment she realized that she had only one ally in this Arena. She had only one source of survival and only one hope of walking out of this a Victor. Coriolanus Snow. And when she came back to herself, staring at the dead corpse of Reaper, his face beginning to change colors, his eyes bulging. The boy who had created a morgue in the middle of the Arena. Out of respect for the lives lost, she realized it. She would’ve been dead a long time ago if she hadn’t had a protector. Someone who cared. Who wanted her. Who needed her. And she realized something else. She wanted him.


	3. Chapter 3

She sat in the dust of the Arena, tears streaming down her face as she looked at the pile of dead tributes that lay before her in their little morgue. She was alive. She had survived the 10th Hunger Games. She had won the 10th Hunger Games. But at what cost? The stench was foul and the flies were already beginning to swarm the corpses. She sat there for what felt like hours, though it was likely only a minute or two. And the moments of death kept pounding in her head. Jessup’s neck snapping as he hit the ground. Bobbin’s mutilated head. Wovey… no. She put the thought out of her mind, but they kept breaking through, their images pulsing inside of her, trapping her. Condemning her.  
The peacekeepers arrived and with them came distractions from her mind. They escorted her out of the arena and the gravity of her situation began to take form, but it still had not made its way into the depths of her consciousness. She still felt a surreal sense of danger, yet fully aware that it was over. It was all over. The peacekeepers took her down a strange hallway, through a building she had seen, but never been close to. Its grand arches and marble walls, the largeness of it all, only added to the surreality of her situation. She arrived at a room styled after the building, but with more wood to enhance the friendliness of the room. Or at least, that’s how she perceived it. It felt a much more personal room than the rest of the building. Behind the desk in the room sat a man, with a nameplate on the desk stating Dean Highbottom. She looked at the man in the eyes, not knowing why she was here or for what purpose.  
“Why am I here? I won, didn’t I? Do I get to go home?” He looked at her and the faintest touch of a smile crossed his face.  
“You’re here because I wanted to meet you. You know, I created the Hunger Games.” Hate filled her heart. Hate greater than she had ever felt for anyone. No. Not anyone. But he was second to only one.  
“Well, then I want to leave. I won. And I at least deserve to be left alone.” All traces of a smile disappeared from his face.  
“No, not… I hate the Hunger Games. I hate the very thing I created. I could never say this, of course, but I do not see you as any more inferior to me through anything more than birthplace. You are better than me. In every respect. Because you live through a creation for which I hate myself for more and more every day. I brought you here to try, though you deserve so much more than anyone can ever give, to give you something to make it all… worth it. Not okay. Because I know that it will never be okay. And that you may hate me for that. But - it is all I can do. I have nothing else to give.” He reached out his hand and gave her a wad of cash. A large wad. Her eyes widened. But the hate remained.  
She was soon on a train back to 12. Not chained up in a cage this time, though. So that was an improvement. But it wasn’t much better. Her body wasn’t bound. But her mind was increasingly devoid of rest, the images somehow getting more and more vivid, but never finishing the cycle. She saw only moments. Horrific, blood-curdling moments. Her tears dried up and yet she kept sobbing. And it hurt. But she couldn’t stop. Reaper’s eyes. Marcus… his body. The moments when she would wake up and hear the pack traversing the Arena. Searching for her. Trying to end her life. Only sleep gave her rest from the viciousness of the reality she was living in. When she woke, she saw twelve in the distance. She knew that she was going back home. To a place where she could be normal again. Where she wouldn’t be judged, if not because no one wanted to watch children die, then because she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t have a choice. She didn’t. She didn’t have a choice! They were going to kill her! They were. They had said so. They had said so. 3. No choice. Are you.  
“Stop it!” She cried out, her voice breaking as she screamed the words. Peacekeepers came in immediately, searching for the threat, but found only a broken girl, sobbing on the ground. No. They adjusted their view of her. Not a broken girl. A victor. A killer.  
“Not my fault. They made me do it.” She looked up at them, her eyes shining.  
Their faces remained still.


	4. Chapter 4

The train pulled into Twelve and Lucy’s eyes cleared as she saw the Covey waiting next to the tracks. A smile found its way on her face for the first time in what felt like forever.  
“Home.” The words felt odd in her mouth. She had always claimed she had no home. That the Covey had a home everywhere… but today she didn’t believe it. District 12 was her home. And she had never expected to see it again. Good memories washed over her, reprieving her of the illness in her mind. She began to laugh, a sound more estranged to her than even the feel of her smile. And then she saw them. Joy filled her heart more than it ever had. Her family was here.  
The Covey brought her home, and for a while, it was as though she had never left. There was no mention of the Games, or of her torment. Of any of it. And then came the hour where the questions that had to be asked tore the peace to shreds. The hour where joy fell apart. The hour where Lucy Grey realized something - the Covey would never free her from the things that she’d been a part of. They were bystanders. And that was all they could ever offer. They didn’t have a TV. They didn’t have a radio. All they had was gossip - and unreliable gossip at that. The majority of the District didn’t watch in the first place, and those that did were doing so for enjoyment - so their stories tended to be either heightened by their imagination or just false because they had created a new story in their mind as to how their favorite tribute died. And so they waited. Waited for her to come home.  
Or so they said. Lucy sat, answering questions, questions that they asked with such innocence. How could she say no? But in their eyes glimmered a lingering unbelief. They might not have even known it was there. But she could see it. She could feel it. And every question she asked, she knew that it was an answer that they had never expected to hear. And it was this truth, this undeniable fact, that led her to her conclusion. She should’ve died in that Arena.


	5. Chapter 5

She retired for the night, exhausted. As she laid in bed, her mind began to run through its pictures again. There was no distraction anymore. And there wouldn’t be, she knew. There was no one who understood. No one who could feel what she felt. And the tears began again. Tears of brokenness. And of frustration. Frustration that she had to keep crying. That there was no glue that could put her mind back together. She felt as though she had left a contestant, not to win, but to die a defiant flame. And she had returned. Victorious. A sputtering, shattered Victor, broken because she had won. She had won. Why. Why. Stop it. Why. Stop. You know why. STOP. You did this. No! Yes, you did. Stop it! You killed three people. No, I didn’t! Yes, you did. They made me! No.. no they did not. You made your choices. STOP IT! Why should I? Because you don’t like the truth? IT’S NOT THE TRUTH. Oh but it is.

Silence.

She stopped. Her heart racing, her body drenched with sweat and tears.  
“I murdered three people.”

Coriolanus. He had helped her. He had fought for her. He had believed in her. He had been in the Arena. He had saved her. And he was pure. He was clean. And he had fought for her anyway. So… she must be clean as well. Not that simple. It is. It's not. Who do you think killed Bobbin? Sejanus wasn’t fighting. And there were figures being chased by the pack - and the pack had weapons. No. See? Even he is not pure. He is a killer. No. We are survivors.


	6. Chapter 6

She woke late in the morning, the blissful hours of nothingness fading as the light flooded her eyes from the window. Maude Ivory peeked her head through the doorway and smiled. 

“You’re finally awake.” She entered the room and closed the door behind her. “I’ve been waiting all morning! SHAMUS has been waiting for you all morning, to be more accurate.” Lucy Grey felt a wave of happiness wash over her. Maude had heard her crying last night. She’d heard what she’d said. And she still acted normal. 

“Yes, I’m sure he is… I love you Maude.” Tears rose in Maude Ivory’s eyes and her smile made them shine. 

“Love you too sis.” 

Lucy Grey took Shamus and began to walk through the trees, headed to her favorite spot. As she walked, she heard a melody in her head. The notes twisted themselves through her mind, their voice sweeping aside any thoughts in her head. Harmonies burst forth and she began to sing. Singing for the first time since the arena; the birds joined her. They picked up the melody quickly, its quiet but dark tune reverberating through the woods. She stopped to listen. And then it came to her. 

“Are you. Are you?” 

The events of the past weeks flew through her mind. She had killed three innocent people. And there was only one punishment for murder. 

“Coming to the tree? Where they strung up a man they say murdered three?” 

She deserved to die. And yet she had been rewarded. 

“Strange things did happen here.” 

The melody in her mind stopped. The birds had quieted, stilling their voices to listen to her song. But no more words came. 

When she arrived at her field, she sat down and began to tend to Shamus, still humming the song. Yet no words came. There was… something missing. But she felt excitement build within her at the prospect of having already created a new song. She hummed and returned to her work. As she brushed Shamus, she heard a rustling in the bushes where she’d come from. She turned and saw Maude Ivory burst through the clearing, a smile wide on her face.

“Lucy Grey! We’ve got a show tomorrow night!” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Author’s Note:** So sorry it’s been a while! I won’t be the author that constantly apologizes, but I thought this once would be appropriate. With work and everything booting back up, things have gotten a little busier for me. I’ll still do my best to update once a week - please don’t think I’ve ditched the fic. I’m still very excited to get this one completed. Thanks! 

Lucy Grey stood on the stage and looked out into the crowd. Butterflies flew within her stomach, but she smiled anyway. No fear was going to take her first performance in months away. 

She stood before the crowd and the music started. And she began to sing. 

“You can't take my past.

You can't take my history.

You could take my pa,

But his name's a mystery.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

You can't take my charm.

You can't take my humor.

You can't take my wealth,

'Cause it's just a rumor.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

Thinking you're so fine.

Thinking you can have mine.

Thinking you're in control.

Thinking you'll change me, maybe rearrange me.

Think again, if that's your goal,

'Cause...

You can't take my sass.

You can't take my talking.

You can kiss my ass

And then keep on walking.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

No, sir,

Nothing you can take me from me is worth dirt.

Take it, 'cause I'd give it free. It won't hurt.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping!”

The song ended with a crash, the audience exploding into applause and laughter. She smiled right along with them, their laughter transporting to a place beyond the Games, beyond District 12, beyond even the song. It took her to him. To his smiles. And even as the tears overcame her she laughed. She laughed because joy was in her heart. And she felt hope. Hope that things could get better. 

The night went by in a rush of laughter in song, the words interchangeable. The music wasn’t the reason they were there. It was the medium by which they communicated. Same as a drink over a bar. And the audience ate it up. They began to get used to the songs, and they were soon singing along. Old times flooded Lucy’s mind, a time where fears of death were foreign. Where she’d had everything. Because they couldn’t steal a thing.

The night ended, and the lines between the closing and the concert itself were blurred. The audience left, but she left with them, their mob leading them to the bars. They flooded the markets, buying all the booze they could find. Hope may not have been plentiful in 12. But there was booze to make you feel like there was hope. Lucy Grey just watched as people drank. She laughed along with them, but she wanted a clear head. She felt as though there was more to the night that hadn’t been done yet. 

She arrived home, and as the Covey went to sleep, she stayed awake. And she played her song. 

“Are you? Are you?

Coming to the tree? 

Where they hung up a man, they say murdered three.

Strange things did happen here.” She blinked tears out of her eyes. A smile met her face and she laughed. 

“Why the heck am I crying.” She laughed again as the tears streaked her face. But she knew. There was something more to that song… something she just couldn’t find. But it was there. Reaching for her. Better the song than her thoughts, right? 

The weeks passed quickly, her life beginning to find a rhythm once again. Concerts became more and more usual until there was no unfamiliarity between her and the stage anymore. She was back. And the crowd loved it. She sang, and every night she’d sing it a new way. Because these people deserved something more than the norm. She’d always smile though. Even when she saw Billy. Even when he wanted to talk. She still found it in her to smile, somehow. And boy did it feel good to say “you can’t take anything from me.” 

And then one night, as she sang, she noticed something. A group of peacekeepers had joined the crowd. Not unusual, at least, it hadn’t been in the past. But there hadn’t been any since she got back. But, she kept singing. The crowd was never the focus, at least, not in its singularity. It was the music, the crowd, the laughter, all of t - that made these nights to remember. But as she looked across the Hob, she saw something. Something she hadn’t dared to hope for. But it was him. Coriolanus looked into her eyes, and she melted. Tears didn’t come, though. Only one thing came. 

“I think there’s a new song I‘d like to share with you all if that’s okay.” The roar of the crow said all she needed to hear. And he smiled, his head tilted inquisitively.

“Well,” she said with a smile, “not new, exactly. But… you’ll know what I mean.”

“Down in the Valley.”

He smiled. And then she had it.

No stranger would he be. 


End file.
